Morning blues

Today, it is tuesday. The traditional sunday fear and loathing should have gone by now. There is not even the slightest possibility that any alcohol at all still resides in my body. Yet it's there, barely, peeking out from beneath my inner eye. And I blame it all on this: Lack of sleep. I live in an environment severely hostile towards sleep. I'm not the kind of person who's able to sleep seven or eight hours a night and still bounce about like a bumblebee on speed. I really need to do something about my curtain-thingy.

But aside from that, I'm thinking it's about time to stop writing about my mundane everyday experiences. After all, I'm here for your entertainment, since you're all too lazy to step away from your computer. So I'll try to update more often, my social life be damned. But right now, I've got to prepare for two brutal hours of lecture at the university. Oops. I did it again, it would seem. Ponder this while I'm gone: Yesterday I saw a man with boobs, and he wasn't even fat. Scary.

On bodily fluids and IKEA

Alright all you dimwitted leprechauns, this is the shit: I am now wireless, moneyless and I have the ability to actually talk into my mobile. Also, I have furniture. Hurray for me! Due to an ill-timed sickness, however, I've been unable to do anything the last couple of days without sprouting goo from my nose all the time. Which includes two quite traumatic visits to IKEA, only one of which resulted in the actual buying of furniture, and the assembly of said furniture.

As for the collective, our actions this last week can perhaps best be likened to those of a headless chicken arguing with itself. Not very coordinated, to say the least. Which brings me to my next point: One of my housemates (the one who most likely infected me with her evil bacteria) wanted to be mentioned in this blog (perhaps expecting something cute? But perhaps not), so here goes my first co-resident presentation: Don't let the sweet looks fool you, this one's a spankin' dominatrix, only without all the leather. Her hobbies probably includes barbecuing cute animals and small boys while laughing maniacally. She was last seen complaining over something. All in all, she's one of the nicer girls out there.

Not much time for spelunking around the internet lately, but I do have one tiny link for you all to check out. Here you will find some music made by an old schoolmate of mine, enjoy.

The Imaginary Death of a Salesman

I hate my job. Now, I'm not too thrilled about working in general, but the reason I hate this job so much is simple: I despise people. They're rude, they're foul-smelling, and now I even have to talk to them and put up with all their poison and filth in order to earn money. It's degrading, it is. Of course I mention this only because I had my first headbutt with a tremendously moronic customer (or not, as it were) tuesday. He was pill-poppingly angry at me for some reason, and as such proceeded to yell at me and call me names. Boo hoo. Well, here's what I couldn't say on the phone, but would have loved to:

Dear Moronic Customer: First of all, learn to speak in such a way that people will be able to understand what you are saying. Second, shut the fuck up. I understand that you're confused and have trouble interacting with other human beings, I just don't care. If you're so miserable you have to unload on people doing their job, maybe you should consider getting a divorce. Or a cat if you're single, which I very much suspect is the case. Either way, here's a tip on dealing with people selling you stuff you don't want: Just Say No (Actually, this I did say on the phone). It makes your life easier, and it sure as hell makes me less destructive. (End of rant)

The other day I saw a "Non-stop Delivery" car stopping at a red light, and found it amusing.

Learn skiing for FREE (but not here)

Now I've officially settled in my new apartment. Not all residents are present, however, so the big, juicy conflicts haven't reared their heads just yet. I did encounter a problem in my room, namely that the curtain-thingy refused to stay down, but that was fixed rather quickly with some tape and a skiing accessory. Tell me, what can't some skiing equipment and a little bit of ingenuity fix? Hell if I know.
Although, I imagine if someone falls down the somewhat steep stairs that connects our living room and kitchen, I imagine it'll take more than a couple of slalom boots to fix them up.

Fun fact: According to Wikipedia, skiing was pronounced "she-ing", from Norwegian, in the early 20th century. Oh, alright, maybe the fact wasn't quite as fun as I led on, but who said you're supposed to have fun while learning anyway? You spoiled bastards.

Currently listening to Herbie Hancocks Head Hunters, which is annoying the hell out of one of my housemates. Heh, heh. The simple joys of everyday life..